Memento Mori
by karasumana
Summary: Himeko, a member of the Order of Hermes, and her lover were kidnapped and tortured by a Nephandus, but she has no memory of the event. In order to discover what has happened to her, she must seek the aid of a dangerous entity...


Memento Mori  
  
Himeko opened her eyes to find herself alone in blackness. There was nothing around her but an empty void, but she could still see her own pale hands quite clearly. There were no walls, not even a floor, and her knowledge of this gave her a sudden, sickening sense of motion, though the air around her felt perfectly still.  
  
Another figure, bright against the backdrop, appeared in the distance. Only his small size gave a clue of the space between them; there was nothing else to tell her how close his portion of the void was. She watched apprehensively as he approached, finally breathing a sigh of relief as she recognized Raleigh.  
  
Suddenly, Himeko knew where she was. The past came flooding back to her, and she remembered the desperate anxiety with which she had tried to scry out Klark, and Raleigh's subsequent attempt to restrain her bodily. She had barely broken his grasp, fueled by furious desire, when the world had faded. Her mind had become mired in thick, cold, sleepiness, and then she had been here.  
  
Himeko carefully schooled her expression into one of haughty contempt as he drew closer, but, she noticed, it didn't seem to be enough.  
  
Raleigh was perhaps a few feet away now; it was hard to say exactly. He wore the expression of a lawyer about to present a flimsy defense: determined, steeled, but with an air of resignation.  
  
Himeko opened her mouth to spit out an angry accusation, but he silenced her by raising his hand. She pursed her lips, waiting for his explanation with a defiant stare.  
  
Raleigh sighed. "Look. We don't have a lot of time to discuss this, but you were about to go haring off on another rash, ill-conceived scheme." He paused, regarding Himeko for a moment before continuing. "If you'd gone after Klark like you wanted to, our other plans for the evening would have been delayed indefinitely. You need to get your memories back, Himeko. You need to remember what happened to you and Klark in the labyrinth before you can understand his current situation." He continued quickly, overruling the beginning of her retort. "The person I've engaged to help us is not to be treated lightly. I know you think that Klark's welfare is of more immediate importance, but he will still exist after tonight, and the arrangement I've made to help you will not."  
  
This time, he stopped completely, awaiting a response. Himeko drew a deep breath to steady herself. "You had no right to simply drop me like that," she retorted, her voice as calm as she could manage. "You can't just control people like that!" she continued, bile rising in her blood. "I'm not your apprentice-I'm not even an apprentice at all, anymore-and I refuse- I refuse-to put up with your heavy-handedness!"  
  
Raleigh nodded wearily. "Just listen for a minute," he insisted. "I'm not going to stop you if you're determined to run off after your boyfriend. I just want you to think about this first. I have an idea of what may have happened to Klark, but the events that have been hidden from you probably contain key details that would explain his situation. If you leave now, you'll never get your memories back. Tyler and I can't fix this for you- but the person I've arranged for you to meet tonight can. Either cooperate and learn what happened to you, or run off on your own. I won't stop you this time," he concluded with a gesture of capitulation.  
  
Himeko's eyes narrowed as she considered. "I want to know what you think has happened to Klark," she finally said, speaking slowly, still uncertain, "and why you think we need to know what happened in the labyrinth to explain it."  
  
Raleigh nodded contemplatively and took a few seconds to choose his words. "Based on Marcus' account of Klark attacking him though he was presumed to be dead, and the nature of his injuries..." Raleigh trailed off, hesitating. "I suspect that Klark has become of those who hunt the night." Himeko's eyes widened, and he nodded soberly. "Yes-a massasa. And if this is true, it is absolutely imperative that we discover what happened to cause his transformation...and find the parties responsible."  
  
Himeko was pale. She swallowed. "I'll cooperate," she said quietly. "I'll go with you."  
  
Raleigh nodded, unsurprised. His expression relaxed. "I'm going to wake you up now," he explained. His voice was already becoming distant, and the darkness between them seemed more opaque. "We're in the car on the way to the home of my acquaintance. Try not to do anything stupid," he added. "I know it's hard, but make the effort, for once."  
  
She felt rising choler as a brief moment of absolute blackness filled the void. Then the darkness began to warm to a shade of reddish-brown. The colors moved slightly in faint ripples.  
  
"Turn left here," she heard Raleigh say.  
  
Himeko belatedly opened her eyes. She was half-lying, half-sitting, in the back seat of Raleigh's car, her legs uncomfortably crammed in at an odd angle to accommodate Raleigh himself, who was on the other side of the seat. Tyler was in the front, busy driving, but glancing back at them in the rear-view mirror. He looked a little surprised, expectant.  
  
"Ah, you're back. Did you enjoy your nap?" Raleigh smirked.  
  
Himeko righted herself quickly and, before he knew what she was doing, leaned forward to slap him, palm open. The smacking sound was louder than she'd anticipated.  
  
Raleigh's eyes widened and he reflexively jerked back. "Well," he began, clearing his throat. "I'm glad you got that out of your system. We're almost there."  
  
Tyler chuckled, and Himeko looked up just in time to see his gaze revert to innocently watching the road. She settled back into her seat and glared stonily out the window.  
  
She'd never seen this part of Duluth before. The road they were on was narrow and in poor repair; the asphalt was lost beneath dry, brown dust for large stretches, and trees on either side made it difficult to see around curves. Dusk was quickly overtaking them. The forest floor was invisible in inky shadows and the trees and undergrowth were all the same indistinct shade. The sky above them, barely visible through the leaves and branches, glowed strangely with the charcoal-lavender of fleeing twilight.  
  
"Where are we going?" Himeko asked after a few more twists and turns. As far as she could tell, they had been driving deeper into the forest, but to what end?  
  
Raleigh didn't reply at first. Himeko looked away from the window and flashed him an impatient scowl. Tyler was just taking another left turn.  
  
"There," Raleigh answered at last, pointing. Himeko turned her head to follow his gesture.  
  
The house was so dark that it had blended into the shadowy background behind the first fringe of trees, but so large that it would otherwise have been visible sooner. Built of black wood or stone-it was hard to tell which in the dark-the manor stood three or four stories tall behind a rusty gate. The yard surrounding the house was littered with fallen branches that gleamed strangely in the fading dusk, and dry, dead leaves that stirred in an unfelt breeze.  
  
Tyler stopped the car a few feet away from the gate, which hung slightly open. "Remember to be polite," Raleigh muttered.  
  
"Am I ever not polite?" Himeko retorted.  
  
"Yes." He extricated himself from the vehicle, joining Tyler in the dusty road.  
  
Himeko climbed out of the car as the two men started up the stone walkway that led to the intimidating front door. She shivered as she passed the gate; there was a strange chill in the air, less from temperature than from emptiness.  
  
Raleigh seemed unphased. He spared her a quick glance before lifting the brass knocker. It was shaped vaguely like some sort of head, and it thudded loudly against the heavy wooden door.  
  
Only a few seconds after Raleigh let the knocker fall, the door swung noiselessly open. A thin, rickety man stood grimly in the portal. He was pale and dark-haired, and his skin glowed slightly, shining unhealthily, like a sick person's.  
  
"Raleigh Stromveld. You are expected," he pronounced simply, and opened the door wide.  
  
They stepped forward and entered a room lit only by old-fashioned lamps in the corners. Dark paintings hung on the walls of the foyer, but Himeko had little time to examine them; she was being ushered through the room and down the hall.  
  
The butler directed them to a parlor to the left of the front hall. Like the foyer, the sitting room was richly appointed, and lit with lamps. Two velvet-cushioned sofas stood on either side of an impressive mahogany table that was a shade lighter than the smooth wooden floor. The walls were hung with rich curtains and silk tapestries depicting a scene from the hunt, and an elegant curio cabinet held a collection of porcelain eggs gleaming with gold and jewels.  
  
Despite the wealth of the furnishings, the room felt stale and empty. The chill Himeko had felt before had not left her; the air around her seemed dead, and the shadows cast by the flickering lamps hung solidly around her, like tombstones in a graveyard.  
  
The butler gestured politely to the sofas, and Himeko followed Tyler and Raleigh to them without remark. The cushions felt firm, as if they were rarely used.  
  
"May I fetch you any refreshment?" the butler inquired gravely.  
  
"No, thank you," Raleigh replied immediately. Tyler shook his head, and the butler turned to receive her response. Himeko declined meekly.  
  
The butler nodded impassively. "Master Romanov requests that you await his presence here. He asks me to inform you that he will attend you directly." He walked stiffly from the room.  
  
Several minutes passed wordlessly. Raleigh remained calmly in his seat, but his brow was furrowed with anxiety. The silence was stifling, but Himeko could not bring herself to break it; something about the cold room and elegant furnishings intimidated her.  
  
The door to the parlor swung noiselessly open, and the butler entered again. "My lord Sergei Romanov," he announced formally, and then stepped aside.  
  
A tall figure appeared in the doorway, sublimating out of the shadows. He was large and imposing, looming out of the darkness, and elegantly clad in a dark suit of conservative cut. His face and hands gleamed like marble, and his sharply angular features seemed to be carved immutably in stone. He was impossibly still even as he moved; no muscles twitched as his head slowly turned to regard his visitors. He had the cold, inhuman rigidity of a master's sculpture, and there was something terrible about his beauty.  
  
He glided further into the room, and it was all Himeko could do to keep from staring at him, awe-struck. Raleigh began to rise, but he was stilled by a gesture from their host. "There is no need to disturb yourself," he said in a deep voice utterly devoid of warmth. His words were harsher for the taint of a Russian accent, but his pronunciation was otherwise correct. Romanov remained standing, and politely glanced to Himeko and Tyler. "I trust you are well?"  
  
"Yes, quite well, thank you," Tyler replied formally.  
  
Romanov's gaze flickered to Himeko. "Yes, thank you," she murmured, hoping her meekness was interpreted as decorous rather than, more accurately, as scared witless. So far, neither Romanov nor his butler had spoken impolitely; she had been accorded the genteel respect partial to her sex. And yet, she could not shake the grip of terror that tightened with each passing minute.  
  
Romanov nodded cordially and turned back to Raleigh. The next few moments were spent on pleasantries. Romanov inquired politely on many subjects, some of which were known to Himeko. She heard herself described as Archimedes' apprentice-how did this person know del'Armigo?  
  
Not much time passed before he turned his inquiries to her. He asked after her health and her studies; she replied automatically, suddenly grateful for the infinite string of dinner parties and cotillions she had been forced to attend by her father. These were the kinds of polite questions for which she had memorized appropriate replies, and Himeko was able to maintain a mask of composure. Before, this mask had concealed boredom, disgust for her father, or distaste for the gathering; now, it served to hide a growing sense of dread.  
  
Romanov seemed vaguely pleased by her sense of etiquette, and soon fell off questioning her. He turned abruptly to Raleigh. "Well, let us return to business," he said authoritatively. "I understand that you had a request to make of me."  
  
Raleigh cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Yes, and I appreciate your taking the time to hear it," he began. "As I've mentioned before, we've been having a great deal of trouble with some dark magi. Himeko and my apprentice, Klark, were captured by one who calls himself Monongan. They were tortured, and by the time Himeko was released to us, there was little more than raving lunacy left of her mind."  
  
Himeko felt Romanov's eyes dart to her, but she kept her gaze on Raleigh, who continued without pause. "As you may recall from our previous acquaintance, I have skills with the human mind that are similar to your own. My companion, Tyler, has achieved mastery of what we call ars mentis. Together, we were able to restore Himeko to her senses. However, we were unable to recover her memories, and she has no recollection of the torture or of what happened to my apprentice."  
  
Romanov's expression remained impassive. "What is it that you are asking me to do?" he interjected.  
  
Raleigh inhaled, steeling himself. "Normally, I would never dream of disturbing you for something like this. Two things, however, have led me to believe that your kind have been involved, and in particular, that House Tremere is responsible. I know that things of this nature interest you." He stopped, waiting.  
  
Romanov's eyes narrowed and he looked sharply at Raleigh. His impassive face betrayed a flicker of black anger. "Continue," he commanded curtly.  
  
Raleigh nodded. "As I have already remarked, both Tyler and myself have a fair amount of skill in the manipulation of minds. We were able to resolve the induced insanity; we believe that was the work of the Nephandus. The block placed upon her memories, however, is a different story. We've made almost no progress with it, and Tyler and I both agree that it is like no magical effect we have seen. In fact, it reminds me strongly of powers I have known you to evince."  
  
There was a short silence as Romanov considered. "Is that all?" he asked coldly.  
  
"No," Raleigh replied grimly. "We have also recovered my apprentice. He is no longer human. He has become one of your kind."  
  
Romanov's jaw clenched. "Not of my kind," he spat. "You mean that he has become a Tremere." The hatred in his tone was explosive in contrast to his former calm.  
  
Raleigh nodded slowly. "That is what I believe has happened," he responded in measured tones. "But I can't rule out the possibility of the Nephandus performing some obscure ritual, and Himeko is the only one who can tell us for sure. But it seems that vampiric powers have sealed her memory."  
  
For the first time, Romanov's eyes directly met hers. Himeko had had the idea that they were dark, but as she looked into them now, she found herself arrested by an inexplicable brightness. Their blackness sparkled and crackled with power, but flowed with living darkness. The evil within his gaze was fierce and beautiful, and strangely seductive. Terror rose in Himeko's blood, but she could not rip her eyes away from his; she felt as though her heart would stop, that she would be imprisoned forever in this stare that raged with hellfire. She had a sickening feeling of déjà vu, of having gazed into these eyes before. This was her nightmare; this was hell, and she would die in its furious flames.  
  
Then, he looked away.  
  
The shadowy room returned. Himeko felt dizzy; her heart pounded and her head throbbed. "I will help you," Romanov declared. "Please follow me." He abruptly turned to leave.  
  
The ringing in her ears was subsiding, and some of her strength had returned. Himeko jerked to her feet. She fell into step behind Raleigh and Tyler.  
  
Romanov's butler led them on a confusing path through the mansion, down narrow hallways and staircases. They had been on the ground floor, but they were descending further.  
  
The butler opened a final door at the end of a long, white-plastered hallway. None of the rooms or passages since the parlor had had any windows, and the effect was stifling.  
  
The door opened into an unlit stairwell entirely hewn from grey stone. The dusty, uneven steps descended into absolute blackness. Romanov preceded his butler down the steps, not stopping to wait as his servant paused to light a lamp and wordlessly hand it to Raleigh.  
  
Himeko's face was white as she looked down into the impenetrable obscurity. The shadows seemed to thicken at the edge of the lantern's glow. If this mansion felt like a graveyard, then this room was a crypt. She hated small spaces and the darkness was far too reminiscent of the labyrinth. She edged back a step.  
  
Himeko felt Raleigh's touch on her wrist, and the stairwell suddenly looked a little brighter, the shadows less threatening. Her fear was not gone, but it was beginning to soften around the edges.  
  
"We can't keep him waiting," Raleigh said quietly. "And it's too late to change your mind. He will have your memories whether you cooperate or not."  
  
Himeko swallowed hard and allowed him to lead her down the steps.  
  
The chamber at the bottom gave Himeko the impression of being vaguely circular, but the walls were not visible beyond the small halo of lantern light. Two chairs were placed in the center of the room; Romanov already occupied one, and his stony face gleamed strangely. The floor might have been etched into something resembling a pentacle, but it was too dark and the carvings too faded, and Himeko could only make out a few disparate lines and curves.  
  
Raleigh prodded her gently in the direction of the empty chair. She moved forward slowly.  
  
Romanov stood briefly. "Please, be seated." His tone was dead and colorless again, but the lack of anger was almost more disconcerting than its presence had been. He waited until she had slid into the chair before reseating himself.  
  
The chair she was in was more comfortable than she'd imagined, but dusty and cold. Raleigh, Tyler, and the lantern seemed impossibly distant.  
  
Romanov was looking at her, examining her with an imperturbable stare. Himeko couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze; the memories of its burning intrusion kept her eyes hovering closer to his throat. He shifted slightly. "What's the matter?" he inquired. "Are you afraid?" He injected just enough scorn in that last word to put her on the defensive. Before her better judgment could overcome her stubborn pride, she forced herself to look at him.  
  
"That's better," she heard him murmur, but his voice came from far away. Himeko felt cold, disembodied. She heard nothing more and everything had vanished around her, even her own body. Soon, she could see nothing, feel nothing at all.  
  
Everything rushed back into being, flooding her senses and leaving her momentarily stunned. There was so much color and sound, too many things clamoring for her attention. Something was yelling; she covered her ears to block it out, and squeezed her eyes shut to escape the ceaseless motion-  
  
Himeko blinked, squinting in the darkness. Too much light would have been dangerous in the labyrinth; some of the things ran from the light, but others would be attracted to it. She glanced at Klark, who was walking beside her. "Are you okay?" she asked in low tones. "We're almost there."  
  
Reality blurred, and Himeko felt like she was being pulled out of herself. Confused, she watched the scene move forward without her, as if someone had put it on fast-forward. She was clumsily jerked forward and finally thrust back into-  
  
She took a quick step backward. "Apprentice?" she angrily demanded. One of the men with Monongan smiled thinly. He was dressed in the robes of an Hermetic, but there was something wrong with the sigils embroidered on the trim, and the glyph around his neck was a gross corruption of the power she knew.  
  
"Didn't he tell you?" the man asked casually. "Klark, don't tell me you don't recognize your own teacher."  
  
Klark shook his head in furious denial, but the fearful widening of his eyes told Himeko the truth. "We should go now," he said shortly.  
  
Appalled, she looked quickly between the stranger and her boyfriend. Were these people infernalists of some sort? "Klark, how could you do this?" she gasped.  
  
Himeko was yanked out of the scene again; it was like being awakened from a dream, or suddenly immersed in icy water. Things whirled forward again, and she was plunged back in before she knew what was happening.  
  
"Let her go!" Klark yelled, red-faced and sweating. "She has nothing to do with this!"  
  
Himeko struggled against the tentacles holding her. She couldn't see the monster itself; it was still hidden in the shadows. It had come from behind them, and the way out was blocked.  
  
Monongan laughed. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" he jeered mockingly. The Nephandus paused to smile nastily over Himeko's ineffectual struggling. "I thought you were here to see me."  
  
Klark was cursing at him; Himeko tried desperately to reach her foci. If she could just get them out of here, it would be worth the paradox. Coming at all had been such a mistake; what had she been thinking, trying to deceive a Nephandus on his home ground?  
  
Her fingers wormed their way into the small silk pouch. She ripped it open, showering the area with soft, white dust. She only needed a little to work the spell. Klark and Monongan were still threatening each other. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her. She released her fistful of powder, reaching for the power to move through space-  
  
Nothing came. More talcum fluttered to the grimy ground. Himeko nearly choked in horror. How had she failed to notice this before? The entire area was locked into place. Reality was rigid and immutable, not just held down by ars vis, but rendered utterly static. Her horrified gaze met the eyes of one of the infernalists. He smiled cruelly and raised something for her to see. It looked like the Enochian glyph for change, but he held it upside-down.  
  
She didn't have time to contemplate further; whatever static power they were calling upon to render her helpless was obviously hindering Klark, as well. His words of power rang emptily as Monongan and the infernalist claiming to be Klark's mentor subdued him. She watched helplessly as they slung him into shackles and left him struggling, chained to the wall.  
  
The infernalist smirked. "You have been a worthless apprentice," he remarked. Klark spat out an expletive. "You have failed to maintain the terms of our bargain," he continued, ignoring Klark's outburst. "And now your life is forfeit, along with that of your wench."  
  
Himeko's shout of denial was drowned out by Klark's outburst. "Let her go, freak!" he snarled. "Himeko has nothing to do with you, you son of a bitch!"  
  
The infernalist and Monongan exchanged a glance. "Your paramour is my prisoner," Monongan remarked casually. "And I think it fitting that she be the one to end your parasitic existence." He nodded to his companion.  
  
The infernalist stepped forward. Monongan hissed a word of command, and the tentacles holding Himeko loosened and fell away at his voice, slithering back into the darkness. Before she could react, the infernalist was pressing a curved blade into her hand. He grabbed her chin, wrenching her face to look into his. His eyes were impossibly both dark and flashing, and panic seized her as she felt their blackness began to smother her.  
  
The darkness wrapped around her, choking her until she couldn't breathe. "Kill him," the infernalist said casually. She felt herself die, and the empty shell that was left moved at his command. Her hand raised itself as her feet shuffled toward Klark. He screamed as the knife plunged into his chest and dark blood spurted forth-  
  
No, it wasn't like this. Something shifted. The darkness burned around her, searing flesh, and she cried out in agony. The infernalist's command was lost in her scream, but she felt its meaning resonate through the charred husk of her body. She jerked toward Klark, raising the knife high to pierce his heart. Through the smoky haze, she saw fear brighten his blue eyes. Her burnt, ashen flesh burst from her, and she whirled around to face the infernalist. The knife flashed-  
  
Reality blurred again. Her world was shrouded in wispy, black tendrils. Darkness caressed her, weaving around her arms and legs and tugging at them like puppet strings. The white face of a man glowed through the haze, and his eyes pulsed with intensity. "Kill him," he hissed, and the words solidified the black vapors, crystallizing them until her body was sheathed in an organ of his will. Her fingers bent around the hilt of the blade in her hand as she waited to be carried forward by the black wind.  
  
Something deep inside of her uncurled, and she dropped the knife. It fell to the moist ground with a dull clatter. Himeko shook her head for clarity and felt the puppet strings dissolve. The midnight encasing her shattered and vanished, and she found herself staring at a pair of very angry eyes.  
  
"Kill him!" The imperative was barked out this time, and the force of the words left her feeling shaken. There was a brief descent into shadows as something slippery grappled for purchase in her mind, but she shook her head again, and it was gone.  
  
The infernalist stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disgust. Behind him, Monongan and the others looked one. "That's interesting," Monongan remarked simply.  
  
Himeko's jaw was caught in a crushing grip and her face jerked forward to stop only a hair's breadth from his. "Kill him now, you insolent bitch!" the infernalist spat.  
  
Blackness billowed from nowhere, invading her eyes and nostrils, and she felt sensation began to fall away. But barely a moment after she felt the marionette strings tighten, something blazed inside her, and the darkness was expelled in a gout of furious inner flame. "No," she declared with effort.  
  
The infernalist opened his mouth, baring glistening fangs, and threw her back. Himeko scrambled away from him, terrified. His fangs shone in the reddish light of the labyrinth. Himeko's mind was frozen. What kind of monster was this?  
  
By the time she recovered, Himeko had been hauled to her feet and dragged into another room. Monongan ripped her foci from her and pressed her back into a human-sized cavity. Metal bars resembling a bony ribcage swung into place, pinning her. Something had been shoved beneath her feet to elevate her so she could see over the top.  
  
This was the room that Negrim had used for ritual. The dead barabbi's presence still lingered in the runes gouged out of the pulsating walls, but the labyrinth's new master had added a torture rack to the wall opposite her. Himeko twisted her head to confirm the worst of her memories of this place; at the other end of the oblong room pulsed a shriveled, wrinkled sack of flesh: the Caul. It was the very heart of the labyrinth, the festering evil from which the rest came. Even now, as she gaped at it, the Caul seemed to beckon, fluttering its swollen lips in anticipation.  
  
A sharp cry from Klark jerked her attention back to where it belonged. It took Monongan and two of the others to force Klark into his bonds; his eyes were squeezed shut, but he was kicking and flailing, shouting expletives the whole time. Finally, they let go, and he raged against his shackles, but without magic, he was effectively immobilized.  
  
Their eyes met for a heartbeat, mirroring the same terror, the same guilt. How had it come to this?  
  
Monongan stepped in front of Klark, obscuring her view. In his hands he held the knife they had tried to give to her to use on Klark. He turned it over in his hands, caressing the flat of the blade with long fingers. Monongan glanced at the one who had tried to control Himeko. "It's a pity that she seems to be able to resist your methods," he remarked, ignoring the glare he got in reply. "We'll have to do this the conventional way."  
  
Monongan paused, looking directly at Himeko. "Now I'm going to teach you why it is rude to invade the homes of others," he said softly.  
  
She fought to free herself as she realized what he was about to do, but the bars held her so tightly that she was barely able to squirm; a person of larger stature would have been held completely still. She saw Monongan raise the knife, and Klark's protestations were cut off in a scream of pain as Monongan slowly and deliberately sliced a medallion of bloody flesh from Klark's face.  
  
"Stop it!" screamed Himeko. "Just let him go! He's never done anything to you!"  
  
Meanwhile, Klark was swearing loudly. "You fucking bastard-" he spat. "I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born!"  
  
Monongan squeezed the small chunk of skin and meat between his fingers, pleasure glowing in his eyes as he listened to their pleas and threats. He smiled warmly, watching crimson blood flow from Klark's wound. "Really, now," he purred. "You scream so quickly. Where's the fun in that?"  
  
Merciful tears blurred Himeko's vision as the knife flashed again, but they could not drown out the slow gargle of agony that Klark released. He cut again and again, deaf to Himeko's begging and Klark's callow attempts at bravery. He was moving slowly, slicing flesh away in small spirals, gently separating it from the bone.  
  
Himeko's voice was going hoarse, but she still croaked out her pleas at him between sobs. "Please stop," she begged, weeping. Klark was limp and bloody, struggling to endure the pain. "Please, Monongan. We'll never bother you again, I promise! Just let us go! We won't tell anyone. For the love of God, please-I'll do anything!" She hardly knew what she was saying, but her words had finally brought Monongan pause, and she continued fluently, grasping at anything that might win their release.  
  
Monongan scoffed. "You're babbling," he said coldly, his previous pretense of twisted geniality abandoned. "Really, I'd expected more out of the girl who managed to kill my predecessor. Oh, did you think I didn't know about that?" he inquired in reply to widened eyes. "You may have done me a favor in that, but I more than repaid you with my help when those drunken buffoons assaulted you. Negrim may have tolerated your appalling dearth of good manners, but I will not. You and your pathetic friend broke into my home to murder me, and now you want to know why I'm not being nice?" He laughed shrilly. "It may be beyond my power to make you intelligent, but, I assure you, I am capable of impressing upon you the importance of respecting my sanctum," Monongan concluded mercilessly.  
  
"But we didn't come here to murder you!" she gasped. It was a stupid lie, and they both knew it, but it was all she had. "You attacked us, not the other way around!" Himeko tried to inject as much sincerity as possible into her voice, turning her most beguiling eyes on him. "We aren't here to be your enemies. Please, just let us go. This was just a misunderstanding." Her voice was trembling, and she was starting to choke on her sobs again.  
  
Monongan's cruelty broke suddenly, and he smiled indulgently. "All right," he said softly. "Perhaps you're right, and this is all a big mistake." Himeko watched him warily; his tone was too gentle for someone still holding a bloody strip of skin. "I'll let you both go," he continued, and Himeko's heart leapt. "But on one condition. We must take care to avoid any further confusion. If you're truly here in friendship, it should be a simple matter to officially join our side."  
  
Monongan paused to give his words a chance to sink in. Himeko glanced sharply to the faintly throbbing Caul, and back again to him. "No!" she blurted out, shaking her head in denial. "I-I can't do that!"  
  
The Nephandus shrugged languidly. "I thought you said you'd do anything," he replied mockingly. Monongan picked up Klark's hand and slowly drew the blade of the knife back and forth. Himeko saw red-tinged bits of skin fall to the floor. Klark was screaming, but the tears streaming from his bloody face betrayed the bravery of his curses. Monongan continued silkily. "It seems he isn't so important to you, after-"  
  
A sharp cry of anguish from Himeko cut him off. "No!" she choked out. "Please stop! I'll do it! Just stop hurting him..."  
  
Her slender frame was wracked by heartbroken sobs as he unfastened the cage holding her in place. Himeko limply allowed Monongan to lead her to the end of the room, to the Caul.  
  
A putrid stench overwhelmed her senses as she approached the thing of resounding evil. The Caul opened slightly at her approach, seeming to tense in anticipation. The lips surrounding the opening were the color of infected blood, and they swelled with black ichor. The rest of the sac could have been a carbuncle waiting to burst, and a thin, translucent membrane rippled and heaved like a person about to be ill. Himeko caught only the barest glimpse of the foul inner chamber, but what she saw was nauseating. Blackness was not even the word for it; the interior had no color; looking at it felt like going blind.  
  
There seemed to be something more within the nothingness; though repulsed, Himeko felt compelled to stare further. The labyrinth seemed to fall away, and she floated in a void. Distant sirens rang in her ears, and the shadows suggested things from somebody's nightmare, and other things from beyond human horror. Bloody, aborted fetuses scraped with half-formed fingers; a centipede ate slowly though a rotting, yellow eye; countless men and women screamed as maggots swarmed their opened wounds. The Caul loomed before her, beckoning. She should join this...here was no meaning beyond endless, exquisite suffering.  
  
"It calls to you," Monongan whispered in her ear, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck.  
  
Himeko wrenched her gaze away; the labyrinth almost seemed bright by comparison to the nameless horror of the Caul. Himeko stared blankly for a moment.  
  
"You can feel it reaching for you," the Nephandus continued in velvet tones. His hand was on her shoulder, massaging gently, seductively. "Go to it. Give yourself over to the darkness and be reborn."  
  
She took a hesitant step forward, wide eyes staring at the blackness. The sirens were returning, faintly pulsing in the membranes of her mind. Every inch of her body cried out for the darkness, ached in sick desire that inspired simultaneous longing and revulsion.  
  
"Yes..." Himeko wasn't sure whether the gentle whisper came from Monongan or from within the Caul itself. She was being drawn forward; the decision was no longer her own. Something pounded in her heart, beating its fists helplessly against the inevitable. It was small and terrified, a candle begging not to be extinguished, burning with all its might against the shadows. Himeko felt tears began to melt their way from her eyes, but it was too late. She had no other choice. Klark would live, and she would die...but be recreated from oblivion.  
  
Something soared like a burning arrow through the darkness. "Himeko, no!" Klark's voice jarred her, bringing her slow descent to a halt. "Don't do it! You're not one of them!"  
  
Himeko jerked awake, only inches from the nightmare. She stumbled back, suddenly warm with inner brightness. Himeko squeezed her eyes shut against the doom promised by the Caul and collapsed to her knees. She still felt the magnetic tug on her soul, but she could withstand it; she could pull back. It was like wrenching herself away from fate itself, but by force of will she would remain free.  
  
A sharp kick landed on her side, and the soft hollow beneath her rib cage exploded in pain. "Get up, you little bitch!" Monongan snarled. Bony fingers grappled her face, pried at her eyes. "Do you want to watch your pathetic lover die?" More tears were the only answer to his shouting.  
  
The Nephandus managed to pry her eyes open, and she found herself staring into a face black and twisted with rage. "You have not witnessed true torture yet," he spat. "You will become one of us, or you will watch him curse you for suffering that neither of you can even imagine!"  
  
"I can't," Himeko whispered. With a snort of rage, he pulled her roughly to her feet and threw her away from the Caul. She was again lifted into the metal restraint. Klark was watching her, bloody and sweaty and tearful, but relief bent his brow. "I'm sorry, Klark," she called in a half-sob. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," he replied quietly.  
  
Monongan chortled wickedly. "How pitiful," he sneered, making his way back over to Klark. "I certainly hope you enjoyed that, because this is the last you will ever see of each other in life."  
  
Klark's agonized cries echoed through the chamber. Monongan worked slowly, deliberately, savoring each drop of blood, each wail of pain. Himeko felt her heart be torn from her chest and burst under the weight of Klark's anguish, but Monongan no longer paid her any attention but to occasionally explain in detail a procedure that he was about to perform. She was a spectator; no, this was her nightmare.  
  
The world bucked and reared against her senses, fighting to change. Her mind was rejecting the scene in which it was immersed. This was too horrible, too painful; it couldn't be happening. The labyrinth blurred into a sandstorm of color, and Klark's screams became the voiceless roaring of wind. She was nowhere, and nothing was real.  
  
Glowing eyes, luminous with the intense darkness of the Caul, dominated her gaze again. Power crackled, but, for a moment, she was beyond its reach. Himeko felt a confusing sense of timelessness; this had happened before, but it was also now, and the future. Temporal flow twisted around her, stretching the second into infinity. These eyes had always devoured her own, and they would continue to feast forever. This was her hell, and it would never end.  
  
Something twisted into smoke and melted away. Himeko had the distant feeling that something had happened, but she didn't know what. The pain and fear pulsing in her blood subsided. There was quiet.  
  
A man, pale-faced and wearing familiar-looking robes, stepped away from her. "It is done," he said gravely to the other men.  
  
She was being lifted gently down from the cage that had been holding her; she was almost sorry to part from it, because she felt like it had been part of her forever. Each new moment felt that way as the men moved her to a table and, gently but firmly, pushed her down onto it.  
  
They were removing her clothes, which seemed odd at first, but came to feel so natural that she was sure she must have always been naked. One of the men, the one who looked the most familiar, began pressing on her with something black and sooty. She tried to sit up, to see the designs they were drawing, but they silently held her down. She contented herself with the knowledge the beautiful designs-her beautiful designs-would soon be finished.  
  
Now they had put away the charcoal, and one of the men was holding her firmly by the shoulders. At the edge of her field of vision, she could see the others pulling a limp body down from the wall. His blond hair was matted with blood, and his face was unrecognizable beneath countless injuries. He moaned softly as they carried him over to her.  
  
The man in black robes left the other two to hold him upright while he produced a knife. Himeko watched passively as the injured man was tipped forward over her. His blue eyes fluttered open briefly, and, for a moment, they simply gazed at each other. Something about him was part of her, and she yearned to understand why.  
  
His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but no words came out as blood gurgled up over his lips. The man in black was putting his knife away; this boy above her lost consciousness as viscous, crimson ichor fell on her breasts, splashing gently and flowing over her torso. It was warm and slippery, and a beautiful scarlet color.  
  
They were taking the boy away now. One of the men was pressing his wrist to the boy's unmoving mouth. Himeko wanted to watch, but the man in black was chanting melodiously, distracting her. She could soon think of nothing else; his powerful voice throbbed in her mind, filling her senses with exquisite darkness. It chipped away at the porcelain shell holding her back; she had never before felt its suffocating restraint so keenly.  
  
And then she was free. Her friend, Monongan, had freed her. She sat up, smiling happily, and was pleased to realize that she finally understood.  
  
Monongan was speaking softly to her as he slipped a soft, black robe around her shoulders. She smeared the blood on her chest, reveling in its warm stickiness. Her clothes were just like Monongan's, and the black spirals decorating her flesh were maddeningly beautiful. She laughed, delighted.  
  
Himeko jerked back, suddenly returned to herself, and hit her head against the hard back of the chair. This darkness was cold and dead, not like the warm throbbing of the labyrinth. She was safe, but that moment had just happened-what was really happening to her? Was she going mad again?  
  
It took her a moment to realize that the figure in front of her was more than a statue. Romanov was still and silent, his eyes opaque. "How do you feel?" he inquired politely.  
  
Himeko stared at him for a few seconds before finding her voice. "Fine," she replied weakly. "I feel perfectly all right."  
  
Raleigh materialized by her side. Romanov inclined his head slightly to address him. "She remembers everything that happened to her," he remarked neutrally. "I will accept my payment."  
  
Raleigh nodded, placing a hand on Himeko's shoulder. "Everything is clear now?" he asked.  
  
Himeko felt cold. The shadows in this room were like a veil, separating this quiet tomb from the living darkness, but she could see through it for the first time. Somewhere in the blackness, evil things waited. She could see them lurking just outside, waiting until she closed her eyes to pounce. She heard the soft crooning of the Caul and the gentle swishing of knives, and, further away, Klark's screams, begging her to end his torture. 


End file.
